


Insomnia-Isadora

by FredGeorge123



Series: ASOUE mostly one shots [3]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But she's only with her endless thoughts, Duncan Qutmire wants to stab someone, Gen, Insomniac Isadora Quagmire, Isadora Quagmire just wants to sleep, Poor Isadora Quagmire, This is probably the most angst-y thing I've written, Tired Isadora Quagmire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 03:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16547948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FredGeorge123/pseuds/FredGeorge123
Summary: She looked at Duncan's sleeping form. He was exhausted. And so was she. But sleep didn't take her tonight. It never did. Not even though she had a huge headache and every part of her body ached. Not even though she screaned and laughed and cried and her thoughts thundered and she wanted to go to sleep so bad. Sleep never came to her. So she stayed awake. Only her and her thoughts. No one else.





	Insomnia-Isadora

**Author's Note:**

> So... ASOUE is the only fandom where I'd read Angst about any character and write Angst about any character.

Isadora Quagmire remembered that first novel she had ever read. Anne of Green Gables. It was about a girl named Anne (with an e) who had been through a rough childhood and was to be adopted by an elderly brother and sister. But it is found out that the brother and sister had wanted a boy to help the brother on the farm. But the girl is extremely uniquely charming and funny and, without realizing it, wins the hearts of everyone who meets her. Her imagination is amazing and her sayings are dope.

There was then her next novel named Little Women. It was about four sisters. Their father had one to war and they are kind of poor. The eldest is Meg who's sensible and ladylike and gets married. Then there's Jo who's a tomboy and a writer. She cuts off her hair so she could buy her mother a train ticket when their father gets injured and rejects when her best friend, Laurie, proposes to her because she knows they won't have a good life together and meets an older German professor whom she marries and writes a book and opens up a school for boys. The third is Beth who's very sweet and very shy and very pure and then dies. Then there's Amy who's ladylike and stubborn and a jerk but grows up to be less of a jerk and marries Laurie.

Guess which sister Isadora likes.

Isadora grew up reading about these intelligent, small town people who then become teachers and still have imagination. And Isadora was inspired. They were intelligent. Not due to maths or just maths. Their imaginations were why everyone liked them. Anne's imagination won the hearts of everyone and Jo's imagination was a huge joy of their family. And Isadora liked that.

She hated how the teachers were always like 'be good at maths, everything else sucks except for parts of science which have to do with maths'. Isadora was implusive and emotional. And that caused her to often get angry due to that fact and start arguing with the teachers and got detentions. Sometimes Duncan would lecture her. Sometimes he didn't. It all depended on her mood. Because sometimes her arguing was passionate and emotional. Quigley didn't ever mind her because he was as implusive as her. But she was more 'arguing, "don't tell me what to do", "kiss my you-know", sassy, confident' implusive. Quigley was a more 'adventurous, no people skills, dramatic, "I really am sorry but I'm still doing the thing", doesn't think' implusive. For Quigley, 'was' was the key word.

...

Isadora was a poet. She wrote all sorts of poems. And poems were literature and literature needs imagination. She'd say she was a good poet. She specialised in couplets but she wasn't limited to them. She preferred couplet because they left a lot of room for more. But what is more?

But that was the old Isadora Quagmire. 'Was' wasn't just the key word for Quigley. Isadora envied his reason for the 'was'. She used to wish Quigley was alive. But now... Sometimes she wished she was in the fire. But she'd never voice the thought out because...

She glanced over at a face identical to hers. The same shaped face. The same shaped eyes and nose. The same colour skin (although it used to be more rosier for both of them. Now they were the same shade of sickly pale) and eyes' colour (again they used to be different looking. They weren't as bright anymore. Isadora didn't believe they'd ever be, even if they survived. And she didn't think they'd, or at least just Isadora (she wasn't strong enough. She couldn't bear it. She was sure she'd die), would survive. The same height, the same build, the same hair colour.

They were both in a cage. They tried to help their good friends, the Baudelaires (Violet, Klaus and Sunny), but they got caught and taken. How long ago was that? She didn't remember. Weeks? Months? To Isadora it felt like years. The only thing that kept her for going crazy was Duncan.

She glanced at her brother's sleeping form once again.

A selfish part of her was extremely glad he was here. In this horrible cage. Count Olaf didn't even let them take bathroom breaks at first. He only gave them a bucket. But he then decided to let them go for ten minutes a day. Not that they needed that much time. They didn't get much food at all except for a few times. At first they didn't get any. Duncan was on the verge of passing out. In one of those days they had gotten a mirror. And what they saw shook them. Their eyes were dull green and they had huge dark circles. They were sickly pale and sickly thin. Their veins were visible. Their hair had gotten longer. Duncan's were mid neck while Isadora's were up to her elbows. That they knew but seeing it in the mirror was different. They couldn't eeeach other in the darknessnso they couldn't at aall be prepared for what they saw in the mirror. After a few days, they got a bottle of water everyday and ten carrots. On the rarest of days they got huge bottles and a bowl of rice every six hours.

But worse was Count Olaf and his henchmen talking about their plans. For themselves. For the Baudelaires. For fortunes that got into their grasp. For VFD. For their side of VFD. For the other side of VFD. They also talked about some Snickets and Beatrice Baudelaire and some others. One of the Snickets were a man named Lemony. Who was deeply in love with the Baudelaires' mother. Count Olf really hated the Baudelaires' mother.

And they had plans for the Quagmires. To brainwash them. Isadora was sure at first that she'd never join. And she was still sure. But she did glance at the thought of being free. Then she'd shake her head.

They'd talk continuously for hours about it. Trying every technique in the book.

"You have no one. No one. No parents. No relatives that you could have gone to. No friends. Just you two. All alone."

That didn't sound like something that couldn't be ignored or brushed aside. But when you lost your parents and triplet only a few months ago (that was Isadora's estimation) and were then sent to a school where you were continuously ridiculed for it and have your brother's memory seem to be forgotten by everyone but you and forced to live in a horrible shack where green stuff grew and crabs pinhed your feet and then get the bestest friends ever but be kidnapped and barely fed and live in the same dirty clothing and not be able to use the bathroom for a few days and then told horrible secrets about your best friends' parents and the organization that your parents were a part of (a horrible organization which makes you sick to think that your parents were a part of) and then told horrible things and ridiculed and be treated as a thing all without a break and then told about sweet freedom then Isadora was sure it would be hard for anyone.

It was certainly hard for Isadora.

Isadora was born first, Quigley second and Duncan last. Isadora always had bragged that she was stronger and more tough than the others. One night, when Duncan was asleep and Isadora was awake (what night? She didn't remember. Could be yesterday. Or a week before. Or a month before. She lost track. All the nights were the same. Duncan slept and she couldn't. And the particular night which she was remembering wasn't different. Nor is this particular night when she is remembering), Isadora laughed hysterically at the memory. She felt mad. Was she going mad? Probably was.

Her tough? What a damn joke. If it weren't for Duncan comforting her, she would probably burn the whole building including herself. A selfish part of her was so glad Duncan was there. It disgusted her.

She remembered her crazy laughing.

Fortunately for her, Duncan was a deep sleeper so he didn't wake up by her madman laughing. Unfortunately for her, the Bald man did. She didn't even say a word as he opened the cage, pulled her out of it roughly by the collar of her sweater and threatened her about all the things he could do.

"We only need one Quagmire for the fortune. I could twist your fragile neck. Or I could pull your hair until all the strands break. Or I could paint your body black and blue like a canvas.

"A few bruises won't hurt me," Isadora had growled coarsely, maintaining eye contact. Breathing was hard because he had lifted her by the collar.

"Oh... Well then..." Isadora hadn't like the look on his face but she kept eye contact, "Will a few bruises hurt your brother?"

That has done it. The girl's had breath hitched and her green eyes had widened. Not even the thought of the habit of saying "Which one?" had passed (even she was forgetting Quigley's memory. God, what a horrible person she was. Her own brother. Who was already forgotten by everyone). She just heard the words 'your brother' repeat again and again. And she repeated different words again and again.

"No... No, no, no, no-" Isadora couldn't stop. Not Duncan. He's all she has left. Please no. Her baby brother. Her only friend in these cruel dark places where she wasn't fed properly and had to wear her dirty clothes and not change and barely slept.

"That's what I thought," the man had laughed a low laugh, "Will you keep your pretty little mouh closed and walk back and sit down like an obidient little bitch?"

Isadora had swallowed all the anger, humiliation and shock that filled her from those words at remembering that what could happen to her brother was in her hands. She nodded weakly. The man grinned and let go of her collar. She fell onto the ground with a thud and she gasped for breath. Isadora shakily got up and took a deep breath. She must have taken too long for the Bald man's liking because he striked her across the face and she staggered. But didn't fall. She didn't fall. She couldn't fall. She owed it to her parents who always told her to be tough. She owed it to Quigley who she had hanso many adventures with. She owed that to Duncan for he had been her best friend ever since the fire and he shared her sadness and fear without a complaint. And so she didn't fall. Not just yet.

The next morning Duncan saw the bruises on her neck and face. His shocked face caused Isadora's throat tighten with guilt. His eyes so haunted and sad and horrified (just when they thought they couldn't be more surprised but why were they surprised?) caused Isadora to feel her heart sink with guilt. His tears caused Isadora to bit her lip with guilt. His sobs caused Isadora to tremble with guilt. Then Duncan, peacemaking and calm Duncan, screamed (Anger? Frustration? Horror? Tiredness? Maybe all? Maybe more? Maybe all and more? Isadora couldn't remember) And Isadora clasped his hands as her tears fell. Duncan then screamed and some of the henchmen came in. Duncan let loose. He wasn't timid or overly polite but she was quiet and reasonable. And yet he shouted and swore and insulted and spat. Old Isadora would have cheered him for giving these horrible people a piece of his mind. But the old Isadora wasn't here and wasn't coming back no time soon and probably not ever. The new Isadora wanted it to end. She begged Duncan to be quiet and not worsen it for if he got hurt then she wouldn't bear it. Thank God, they weren't bothered and had other business. They left Duncan alone with his screams and Isadora alone in her suffering and turbulent, endless emotions. She didn't know she could feel so many emotions at the same time. Relief that they went and fear that they'd come back. Sadness from everything and anger too. And more emotions but most all she wanted Duncan to stop. He finally did after what felt like hours. Then Isadora was finally at peace. Not as peace peace but as much peace as she could get and the peace she most wanted at that moment. They both then sobbed to sleep without another word.

Right now Isadora suddenly felt tired. She felt herself sink onto the floor. Anne and Jo were her literacy heroes. She wasn't sure what they'd do in such a situation. They may be like her. Or may not be. She didn't know.

She looked at Duncan's sleeping form. He was exhausted. And so was she. Bur sleep didn't take her tonight. It never did. So she stayed awake. Only her and her thoughts. No one else.

Her thoughts weren't imaginative. They were negative and pessimistic and dark and unimaginative. She always related to Jo and Anne. But in this cell she started laughing. Not too loud. But laughing all the same.

Her as brave, clever Jo who grew up from an unsensible, short tempered tomboy to a strong woman who has good sense and judgement? Or as Anne who grew up from an unreasonable and talkative girl to someone clever and good?

Isadora Quagmire felt like nothing more than the toy of someone who likes to take their anger out on that toy and then play with it because they could do anything to that toy. No questions.

Isadora coughed and sone phlegm dripped down her mouth. She wiped it away.

What a damn joke.


End file.
